by Lucy Knott
‘So, it’s not looking too bad. Give him a couple more hours and Liam says we’ll be right as rain,’ Kate replied, stopping on the way to greet the others to pick up Amanda’s clipboard that she had dropped earlier.
Amanda reached the table and clapped her hands together, offering a cheery hello to make the two new hires forget about the odd conversation that had just ensued.
‘Having trouble with your boyfriend’s ex?’ the boy queried, swiveling around on his chair, casually draping his arm over the back of it. Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle at his innocence. It felt refreshing to relax back into her anonymity. It was a sharp contrast to how over-exposed she had felt just moments ago.
‘Something like that,’ she said. The boy offered her a sympathetic smile. ‘Right …’ Amanda started, before there was another loud knock at the door. Three sets of eyes bore into her as though she were running a mad house.
Amanda turned on her black trainers and rushed to the window to get a peek at who was knocking. Looking through a gap in the blinds again, she saw a tall man with a clipboard in his arm and a briefcase in the other. He didn’t scream paparazzi – he was standing rather tall for a sneaky journalist. In Amanda’s experience they hid in bushes or dressed far more unassumingly, like the demon lady from before, but this man was in a full-on suit.
‘Do you think I should answer it?’ Amanda tilted her head towards the back of the café at Kate and her other potential staff. She feared she looked like a madwoman. Why was she asking them? They had no idea of the skeletons that lurked in Amanda’s closet. Really? Amanda thought to herself. Skeletons? That’s a touch too dramatic, don’t you think? It wasn’t like she had to hide the fact that her sister was a manager to a famous rock band from potential hires, they would soon find out on opening day. So why did she feel the need to keep it from them a while longer?
‘What kind of café is this?’ Amanda heard the girl whisper to Kate. A side glance and Amanda saw Kate shrug in lieu of a response. She didn’t blame her. The place was a mess, she had no running water, no food, but a healthy slew of random people knocking down her door. She had to get a grip and probably come clean after this.
Despite the unpleasant ache sitting on her stomach she unlatched the door. At the first sound of life, the man sprang into action, raising up his laminated badge and making to step forward. Amanda gripped the door tighter.
‘Excuse me, we are not open yet, this is private property,’ Amanda said loudly, not exactly sure that was true or not, but right away she didn’t care for this man. He took a step back and sighed at the confrontation.
‘The badge, ma’am, look at the badge. I’m Tom Bennett, it is not in my job description to announce my title, but I suggest you don’t get on my bad side. Now, please move aside. I do not stand for idle chit chat, bribes of any kind or immaturity,’ Tom said, stepping forward once more, trying to push himself inside. Was this guy having a bad day or was he always like this? Was he a health inspector? A reviewer? Were they all this mean? She hadn’t met a critic before on her travels that was this patronizing. Was he hangry?
Amanda’s grip on the door grew tighter, she looked at his badge and noticed the pen on his clip board was from Rusk. Was this her ex-sous-chef Jeff’s, plan to sabotage her? Did she really have to deal with this now? She hadn’t had to think about her conniving, women-hating, weasel-like former colleague since she’d quit her job as head chef at Rusk just before New Year, and her life was much more pleasant because of it.
‘Mr Bennett, I have no intention of bribing an official, but you simply cannot force yourself into my café when I don’t know who you are. I find that terribly unprofessional and I would ask that I have the number for your boss or whoever it is you work for,’ Amanda said sternly, trying to figure out who this man was. She didn’t want to be uncooperative if this man was someone important, but she was done with feeling like a fool in front of her new staff.
‘I don’t feel like you are comprehending what it is I do or who I am. I do not go around announcing myself. We make surprise visits to truly see how a place is being taken care of, how the food is being cooked and how the kitchen is being kept. But your …’ he paused, looking down his nose at Amanda’s scruffy attire and then taking in the dirty windows. ‘Your establishment seems to be quite secretive, causing me to have to knock and deal with this needless conversation.’
Amanda couldn’t help the small grin that began to creep up on her face. This had to be Jeff’s doing, surely? He could have got his timing a little better, but if it was a tour the man wanted, then fine.
‘Please forgive me Tom. Do come on in,’ she said, stepping aside and waving him in.
Tom certainly was doing his best to uphold Jeff’s plan. Clearly, he didn’t want to give up too soon in needing to put the fear of god into Amanda, but by the confused look on his face at the sight of the indoors, he knew he had messed up.
‘So, here is where our customers like to dine,’ Amanda started, waving her hands over the plastic covered seating area. ‘I find it so much easier for my staff to clean up at the end of the day with our usage of the plastic wrap. Any food or drink spills simply wipe up with a wet cloth. And the customers don’t seem to mind it, it’s a new kind of chic. Again, we’re doing things a little differently here, taking rustic to a whole new level. The newspapers on the floor make for an exciting game of stepping stones on your way to the bathroom, the kids love it.’ Amanda couldn’t help smiling and batting her eyelashes.
‘Oh my god, just wait till you see the kitchen. It comes with our onsite fixer-upper, he works tirelessly day and night to keep this place running smoothly. Even the kids know him by name and he’s a firm favourite with our customers.’ Amanda used her butt to open the swinging door into the kitchen. Give him credit, Tom had yet to give her an eye roll and he was sticking it out. Amanda was intrigued as to what he would come up with to try and scare her off when her whole dramatic act was over. Her staff remained huddled around the table, each wearing a bewildered expression as they watched their new boss in action.
Tom remained quiet throughout Amanda’s charade and she wondered how he could possibly remain professional in a situation like this. Would he admit his mistake? Would he laugh it off? Were Jeff’s steeds even allowed to laugh? If he hadn’t been such an ass upon meeting, Amanda might have felt a tad sorry for him, but then she remembered he was in cahoots with her ex sous-chef and all sympathy vanished. Jeff had sabotaged her last job, he was not about to stomp on her dreams. She felt her cheeks begin to redden with anger at the thought of Jeff, and without waiting for Tom’s review of her clearly not-finished café, she marched him through the café and swung open the front door and gently shoved him through.
‘Thanks for stopping by. Do say hello to Jeff for me. It’s a shame your timing was a little off, but I’ll be sure to have everything in absolutely fabulous condition by the time you come again, and you know, I will actually be open and shall be welcoming health inspectors and reviewers with open arms.’
Amanda slammed the door; her fists were curled into balls and she could feel her heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. It hit her all at once that this café was her baby and that she would not take kindly to people trying to destroy it. This had been her dream for so long; it was for her and for Grandpa and she would fight to make it a success.
With her fingers against the bridge of her nose, she glanced down at her watch, a scoff escaping her lips. It was only 9 a.m. It was going to be a long day.
Chapter 8
Nanna’s Zabaglione
Ingredients:
½ cup white wine
½ cup Marsala
1 tsp sugar
2 egg yolks
What to do:
Whisk together egg yolks and sugar over a medium heat. (Careful not to scramble.)
Pour in wine and Marsala and whisk until thick and fluffy.
The skylight above was letting in the soft morning sun, rendering the kitchen in a yellow g
low. From the glass sliding patio doors Sabrina could see the silhouette of Santa Monica pier and the rows of palm trees along the paths bristling in the breeze. Spring was just beginning to bloom with March in full swing; LA boasted an orange sun and warm air at six in the morning.
For four years, her view from her tiny apartment had been that of brick walls and dumpsters decorating the sidewalk. She smiled inwardly that her view upon getting ready to leave LA better represented what she had set out to do all those years ago, and what she had accomplished. Nestled high up in the Santa Monica hills overlooking the ocean, the sunlight causing the white kitchen to gleam and the clear-blue water of the swimming pool to glisten under its rays; yes, it was certainly a step up from her previous living quarters and a far cry from the life she had led when she had first moved to LA. She had been fortunate that her move to LA had come with a job at Jones Records, but she had never been so nervous putting down a deposit on that rusty apartment, especially since the weeks that followed felt like a painful initiation into Lydia’s world and Sabrina had been tempted to give up more than a handful of times. Being an assistant, she had started at minimum wage – getting a raise was dependent on passing Lydia’s tests. For a year that raise alluded her, even after the 4 a.m. coffee runs, 2 a.m. dry cleaning emergencies and brilliant idea after brilliant idea that Lydia stole from her.
It was only when San Francisco Beat came along that she was able to start saving, with high hopes for the future, and occasionally purchase a sparkly dress here and there for fancy events instead of simply renting them. The home she was currently residing in might not exactly belong to her, but she allowed herself to feel proud that she’d had a hand in San Francisco Beat’s success and in turn them being able to afford such a luxurious home.
With the money Sabrina had saved from sticking out her hole-in-the-wall lease and with their new deal with City Heights Records, she was looking forward to buying her first property in Manchester. She helped herself to a mug of coffee, wishing that she was like Amanda and could whip up a small batch of zabaglione to dollop inside it. She triple-checked the flight details that lay on the kitchen counter, allowing herself to breathe in the fragrant aroma, and patted herself on the back for getting the year off to a great start with the boys. Granted, Tyler had been the brains behind this record deal, so he deserved most of the credit, but she was proud of herself for handling the meeting and negotiations with Keira that had followed, before they signed the dotted line.
Her phone rang with a loud shuffle across the kitchen table. She leant forward, careful not to spill her giant mug of coffee, and pulled the phone to her ear.
‘Morning,’ Sabrina greeted Keira in a chirpy whisper, though she was certain that the boys could not hear her from upstairs; the house might be modest in comparison to the mansions on Cribs but it could still fit her apartment inside it twenty-fold.
‘Morning Sabrina! So, amazing news, I wanted to catch you before you got to the airport. The recording studio in the UK is all booked. I think the guys will love this one. There’s no time restraint on it yet, I want to see how the boys get on. If you just keep me posted on where we’re at along the way –how the songs are coming together and such – and then we can get a better idea of our marketing strategy and radio promotion as we go,’ Keira said, the coffee and her words waking Sabrina right up. Sabrina was getting used to Keira’s fast-talking and straight-to-the-point ways.
‘Sounds good,’ Sabrina said, moving to sit at her desk and grabbing her notebook to jot down things to remember.
‘March 30th is when the band is due in the studio and I’ll most likely be heading over to pay you all a visit during that week too.’
‘Okay, yes. I’ve got it all written down. March 30th. I’m sure they will be eager to get started. Thank you,’ Sabrina said, circling March 30th a few times in her notebook.
Keira chuckled down the phone. ‘I’ll send over an email with all the details – just confirm when you’ve received it and we’ll be good to go.’
Sabrina put her pen down, but then picked it up again out of habit. She didn’t always trust emails – she liked to write things down and would only be transferring important bits of information from the email into her notebook anyway. ‘I will do.’
‘Great. Safe travels, and Sabrina – be smart and keep your wits about you. See you soon,’ Keira said before hanging up. Sabrina gnawed on the end of her pen, staring deeply into the coffee pot across the kitchen. She watched the still, black pool of liquid, pondering her next moves and how she was going to make them.
*
It was Thursday morning so naturally LAX was rammed with people. Normally crowds would fill Sabrina with nerves, but today she was glad of it. With the traffic getting here and the constant bumping into fellow passengers there had been barely any time to stand around or for the boys to stand out. In other words, less opportunity for her and Levi to get cosy, hold hands or cuddle up to each other and less opportunity for someone to catch them in the act and snap a shot.
Sabrina was marching forward, all business, as she made her way up to the kiosk. She checked them all in; it helped keep the process smooth and flowing. If she let the boys do it they would be there for hours as James and Levi would charm the men and women behind the desk, leading them to request pictures, causing more people to catch on and draw attention to them. It had happened on more than one occasion and Sabrina could do without it today.
The lady smiled at Sabrina and handed her back her passport. As she opened each one of the boys, she sent them each a coy glance, her mouth slightly parted. She knew who they were, but Sabrina was prepared, answering each important question and stepping in to ensure the boys gave short answers when the lady wouldn’t accept her response. Sabrina understood that the boys were grown men, but if anything happened to them it would be her head on the line.
Sabrina knew the boys were more than capable of appeasing a group of screaming girls, men, and women. They would flash their dazzling smiles, answer questions and bid them farewell in a manner that made people thank them and give them their space. She’d witnessed it thousands of times before. However, grown men just looking to give them a hard time and women wanting inappropriate body parts signed were a different story, and, right now, not a story Sabrina wanted to have to explain to Keira on her first week on the job.
The minute they were handed their boarding passes – for first class thanks to Keira – Sabrina ushered them towards their gate, with ten minutes to spare. She was certainly not going to miss the LA rush.
As Levi walked up behind her to take the seat next to her, she stopped abruptly, turning into him and putting a hand up to his chest to stop him.
‘Is it okay if Dan sits with me? I have a bunch of emails to go over with him. I might as well get a head start with all these hours ahead of us.’ Sabrina tried to keep her voice level and airy, not wanting to give Levi reason to overthink her request, but that didn’t stop him looking crestfallen. It took all she had not to reach out and hug him, but she didn’t know who might see them.
‘Sure,’ he said after a moment’s hesitation.
‘Great, thank you baby,’ Sabrina said with a bright smile as big as she could muster, turning to take her seat before Levi could kiss her.
Chapter 9
Mozzarella in Carrozza
Ingredients:
Bread
Mozzarella (drained – use kitchen roll to soak up moisture)
Butter
2 eggs, beaten
Splash of milk
Salt
Pepper
What to do:
Make up mozzarella sandwiches.
Add splash of milk to beaten and seasoned eggs. Dip sandwiches into the mixture.
Coat bottom of a saucepan with butter and allow to heat up.
When the pan is hot, fry sandwiches on either side until golden brown.
Louisa heard the cockerel before her eyes had even opened. This had become her morning ritual; she no
longer required an alarm clock or had to rely on her phone. Her trusty cockerel friend had her back, whether she liked it or not; her requests for keeping the noise down on weekends had gone unanswered. It took all of two minutes for her bleary eyes to snap wide awake and her stomach to grumble to attention. Nowhere in the world did she believe one could wake up to the sweet and mouthwatering aromas that were wafting from her zias’ kitchen. Nothing could compare to Italian food, especially when her zias made it and to give her big sister credit where credit was due, anyone would be hard pressed to find a better Italian chef than Amanda. She did their zias’ and Nanna and Grandpa’s food justice.
Louisa sprung out of bed, throwing one of Luca’s hoodies over her pajamas. She shoved her feet into her boots and followed the delicious scent of vanilla cornetti and frying mozzarella in carrozza. There was a definite chill seeping in through the cracks in the walls and under the door frames; if the allure of food wasn’t enough to wake her, her body had snapped to attention with the crisp air that made the hairs on her arms stand to attention. She rubbed at her biceps as she walked through the dark corridor. Passing through the hall, she often got distracted by the photos on display. Tealights lit up the frames that bore the departed, black and white family photos decorated the peeling white walls and dotted between them were stunning pictures of Orzoro throughout the years. Not much had changed bar the shop signs and more tourists packing onto the beaches each year. The shelf up ahead, just before the kitchen, held her grandpa’s picture and fresh roses that Nanna replaced every few days. Louisa paused as she walked past it, like she had come to do every morning, and greeted her grandpa – ‘Buongiorno, Grandpa’. He was never far from her thoughts.
